


daisies and daffodils

by JaeRianL



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Major Illness, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Polyamory, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26955070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaeRianL/pseuds/JaeRianL
Summary: Looking at the formerly white cloth, he is stunned upon seeing two bloody petals, one from a daisy and the other a daffodil.Or; Ianto is in love with Owen and Tosh but refuses to do anything about it, even if it means potentially dying.
Relationships: Owen Harper/Ianto Jones/Toshiko Sato
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	daisies and daffodils

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This has been completed for months now, but I chickened out of publishing it until now!
> 
> Just a brief trigger warning for (presumed) terminal illness, discussions of death and blood.
> 
> That being said, hope you enjoy!!

He hadn’t noticed it at first, if he wasn’t sorting through the archives, Ianto was in the kitchen making drinks, or mucking out Myfanwy, or feeding the weevils, or running the tourism office. So, it had taken him a couple of days to realise that Tosh and Owen had become an official couple, not that he let them know he’d been in the dark about it, heaven knows Owen never would’ve let him forget it. And Ianto was genuinely happy for them, he knew that they balanced each other out, and that they’d make one another happy, even a blind man could have seen how happy the pair were together. 

So what if Ianto had dreamt of being with Owen and Tosh, that waking up to the couple beside him in bed - a proper bed, not the crappy sofa bed thing Ianto has in his flat - would make him feel less hollow than the empty flat he rented out made him? So what if he had to resist the urge of holding their hands when the team went out around Cardiff, that he had to physically restrain himself from kissing Owen’s cheek, or Tosh’s forehead ( ~~or their lips~~ ) whenever either of them got anywhere near him? He was coping just fine, and if he had to cover up how long he stayed in the Hub after Jack sent everyone home, well then that was between Ianto and the CCTV system and no one else. 

The first petals came up one evening he’d “gone home”, hiding away in the depths of the archives, far enough away from Jack’s room that he wouldn’t hear any noise. Having felt a twinge in his throat for most of the day, putting down to looking after his niece and nephew the night before, the coughing fit is unsurprising. Pulling out a handkerchief, Ianto muffles his coughing, only pulling the handkerchief away when he feels the need abate. Looking at the formerly white cloth, he is stunned upon seeing two bloody petals, one from a daisy and the other a daffodil. 

Thinking back to the case with Jasmine and the fairies, he heaves a sigh of relief, remembering the pervert who’d been killed by them had thrown up rose petals, as had Jack’s former squad. Quickly checking his phone, and seeing the time was only one in the morning, he makes his way to his office, making sure to erase the footage of him coughing up the flowers, before searching through the digitized archives for any reference to people coughing up daffodils or daisies, ignoring any reference to chosen ones. Three quarters of an hour later, and after a lot of cussing at the computer in Welsh, Ianto finally finds a file, referring to the death of a former agent during the Great War. 

Skimming through the employee’s file, Ianto notices the mention of Hanahaki Disease as being a potential cause of death, first diagnosed when their best friend had gotten married before enlisting. Searching in the database for information about the disease, Ianto’s heart drops, the first line reading: _Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese)) is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love._ Slumping down in his office chair, Ianto sighs as he forces himself to read the rest of the file. With suspected fae origins - fucking fairies - it was noted that the only means to end it are death or reciprocated romantic feelings. 

Resigning himself to another sleepless night, Ianto deletes all proof of his searches, mentally compiling a list of things that need to be sorted before he passes away. His belongings were going to be the easiest things to sort out, he only has a sparse wardrobe, a handful of books, and some pictures and mementos to pack away. He’d have to transfer the savings accounts he’d set up for Mica and David to Rhiannon to control - and put in a clause that no money can be taken out of them until the kids reach eighteen, Ianto knows what Johnny is like - and allocate the two children various family heirlooms he’d received when his Mam had passed away. After that, Ianto knew he’d have to leave the team with a new archivist, they barely managed to put artifacts in their correct places on a good day, maybe he could cash in that favour with Archie after all. 

Getting up from his chair, Ianto grabs his bag from beneath his desk before making his way out of the Hub, ignoring the twinge in his throat as he steps onto the Plass and makes his way over to the taxi rank. Giving the driver his address, Ianto focuses all his efforts on not coughing up any more petals, especially not in a taxi. Handing the driver a tenner as they pull outside of his flat block, Ianto hurries towards the lift, allowing himself to finally let the petals come out now that no one else was around. 

Stumbling out of the lift as it reaches his floor, Ianto fumbles with his keys, praying that no one decides to come out and play the concerned samaritan. Slamming the door behind him, Ianto shoves the petals in the trouser pocket he’d stashed his bloody handkerchief earlier, dropping his bag by the door before shrugging off his coat and shoes. As he trudges through his spartan flat, Ianto nearly breaks down at the sight of the photo hanging on the old fireplace. 

It’s a group photo, taken by Gwen’s wedding photographer, of the entire Torchwood team and Rhys. It was a candid image, the team not big on the conventional poses they’d been made to do for Gwen’s sake. Ianto was smiling down at Tosh and Owen, the pair arguing about the uses of some piece of technology from the rift that they hadn’t managed to work out, while Jack and Rhys were laughing at a joke, most likely made about Gwen, who was faking annoyance at the pair, a faint smile on her face. He normally hated having his picture taken, but this image always stood front and centre, the happiness of the day clear on everyone’s faces.

Cursing the injustice of it all, Ianto slumps down onto the broken sofa bed he’d been meaning to replace for the past few years, grateful he hadn’t wasted his money on one after all. Deciding to get a head start on the sorting process, he rummages around in the storage cupboard for some suitcases and boxes, and begins to pack away the books and knick-knacks littered around the studio flat, labelling post-it notes with who he wants to own them once he dies. The task takes less time than he expected, essentially completed in an hour, and leaves Ianto with a few suits, as well as a set of casual clothes and pyjamas, a blanket, a cushion and the group photo, as well as a family picture from the previous Christmas, left out of storage.

Not yet feeling tired, Ianto decides to start writing letters to his family, and the team, knowing it was only a matter of time before his condition would worsen to the point he’d be bed-bound and unable to move without coughing up at least one whole flower. Finding a notepad, and a random biro, he begins to write the letters, refusing to cry over his imminent death, lest he never stops. Soon enough, he begins to drift off on the sofa, pushing the pad of paper onto the floor before he falls asleep properly.

It isn’t long until he is woken up again, choking on the petals trying to make their way out of his throat. Turning his phone on, Ianto resigns himself to no more sleep, the five am alarm set to go off in half an hour would only serve to ruin his day should he let himself nod off back to sleep. Taking out a darker suit from his wardrobe, Ianto quickly showers and changes, not wanting to risk stopping in case he has another coughing fit. Going over to the tiny kitchenette, Ianto gets himself a glass of water, adding a vitamin supplement so that he doesn’t pass out at work. Making himself a protein shake to take with him, Ianto grabs the notepad and pen off of the floor before making his way to his front door, placing the notepad in his bag before making his way to the Hub. 

Walking towards the Bay, Ianto forces himself to consume the drink, ignoring the sharp pains from his throat as he swallows it down. Deciding to enter the Hub through the archives, Ianto places his things in his office before making his way to one of the areas of the sub-basement he hadn’t tackled yet. Keeping any eye on the time, and making sure to cough in the CCTV blindspots, Ianto makes his way through the seemingly endless supply of file boxes and poorly organised artifacts, mentally cursing the former Torchwood members who had a lack of concern for organisation and order.

After three hours of hiding in the archives, Ianto decides to brave his way upstairs, knowing that everyone would be at their desks, most likely expecting their first coffees of the day. Coughing into his elbow whilst still in the archives, Ianto makes his way through the Hub, greeting Jack and Gwen as he walks past the pair.

“No Tosh and Owen?” He asks, hoping that he wouldn’t have to risk coughing up any petals in anyone’s presence.

“They should be in any moment now, I saw them on the tourism office CCTV camera a few minutes ago.” Gwen responds before turning her attention back to Jack, the immortal man leering at her while being perched on her desk.

Shaking his head, Ianto makes his way into the kitchen, pulling out five mugs from the cupboard above the sink, before remembering the issues he’d had hours prior in trying to drink the protein shake and puts his cup back in the cupboard. As he waits for the coffee machine to finish brewing the coffees, Ianto has to stifle a cough when he hears Owen and Tosh near the kitchen, smiling at the couple as they try to start up a conversation with him, receiving one word answers before being fobbed off with their mugs of coffee.

Once Ianto knows that the pair are out of ear shot, he lets out a series of coughs, producing a lone daffodil petal as well as four daisy petals. Grimacing at his bloody hand, Ianto disposes of the petals before washing his hands meticulously. Wiping at his watery eyes, Ianto takes Jack and Gwen’s cups of coffee out with him, passing them over to the pair before making his way back down to the archive sub-levels, ignoring Owen and Tosh’s repeated attempts to keep him upstairs. 

Walking through the archives back to his office, Ianto avoids all of the nearby CCTV cameras, not wanting to risk anyone seeing him coughing and force him to get a check up from Owen. Reaching the office chair, Ianto forces himself to sit upright, not wanting to choke like he had earlier that morning, and pulls the notepad and pen out of his bag. As he reads over the letters he’d already written, and begins the ones he had failed to start before he fell asleep, all Ianto can do is pray to a god he hadn’t believed in since he was a kid, and hope that he’s able to pass on peacefully.

\-----

Three weeks later, and Ianto is cursing himself for having jinxed his luck, why hadn’t he touched wood, or anything that could’ve prevented everything from going tits up. It seemed that this disease only knew how to worsen, and while he’d expected it, what he hadn’t anticipated was the constant pain he was in, psychologically and physically. Due to his sheer stubbornness, or as his sister liked to call it: his sheer stupidity, Ianto had refused to let anyone know that anything was wrong with him, and while he knew that Owen and Tosh in particular were concerned about his health, that had spurred on a campaign of avoidance and running away. Ianto knew his time was wearing thin, he could just about manage an hour of sleep a night, he could barely swallow water and he’d now begun to cough up full daisies and daffodils, rather than just the petals. 

That was why, on Wednesday evening, Ianto decided that it would be his last day at Torchwood. Waiting for everyone to leave, Ianto left envelopes addressed to each of his colleagues on their desks, gazing forlornly at Owen and Tosh’s desks, now squeezed as close to one another as physically possible. Taking in the Hub for the final time, Ianto makes his way out through the archives, stopping repeatedly in order to cough, then catch his breath once again. 

By the time he’s made it home, Ianto can barely stand upright, and is highly thankful no one else is here to see him in the state he’s in. Violent coughs rake his body, and he only manages to get into his flat based on sheer luck, and luck alone. Pushing the door shut, he leans against the wall as he shakes from the strength of the coughs, his body’s attempts to expel the flowers destroying his already weakened body. Managing to throw up a single daffodil, along with four daisies, Ianto clings to the waste bin he had brought when it all began, not wanting to bloody the floors and risk losing the deposit he’d paid on the flat in the first place.

Stumbling onto the sofa bed, Ianto sobs at the sight of the pictures laid on the coffee table in front of him, his family and his team, together at last. Allowing himself to mourn the unfairness of it all, after three long weeks, Ianto slips into a state of unconsciousness, curled up on the sofa and smiling as he hears Owen’s voice, calling his name. 

\-----

The distinct noise of a beeping monitor is the first thing Ianto hears as he wakes up, the young Welshman confused at the lack of an afterlife, or the absolute nothingness death had been described to be like. Opening his eyes, he turns his head to see that he’s in the Hub’s medbay, Tosh and Owen asleep at his bedside, red eyed and exhausted. Unable to stifle the harsh coughs, Ianto weakly pushes himself up on the bed and pulls the oxygen mask off of his mouth so that he can cough into his hand. 

Almost instantly, Owen and Tosh jolt awake, and once his coughing fit is over, Ianto is pulled into a tight hug by Owen, feeling the older medic silently cry on his shoulder. Seconds later, Ianto feels Tosh hug him from the other side, the woman shaking as she sobs into his neck. Rubbing their backs, Ianto lets them cry on him, not entirely sure what had provoked such a strong response from the pair. Then it dawns on him, he announced his love for both of them in his letters, they must have read them if they found him in his flat.

Letting them pull away from the hugs, Ianto sits there dumbfounded as Owen puts the oxygen mask back on his face before taking a look at Ianto’s vitals, checking that the younger man wasn’t at risk of passing out on them. Tosh, meanwhile, squeezes herself onto the tiny bed Ianto was currently residing on, throwing Owen a dirty look when he tries to suggest she should get off of the bed.

“You, Ianto Jones, are the most oblivious man I think I have ever met!” Tosh exclaims, ignoring Ianto’s noise of disagreement. “Not only did you hide this illness from us for over a month I might add, but then you go and write us letters telling us to move on with our lives because you didn’t deserve us or our love in the first place!”

“Ianto, how could you think we aren’t hopelessly in love with you?” She asks, her voice barely louder than a whisper, clinging onto Ianto’s frail body as if he would disappear if she let go.

Leaning over him, Owen smooths Ianto’s hair from his eyes before gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. Clinging onto his free hand, Owen perches on the end of Ianto’s bed before explaining that not long after Ianto had made his way home, Owen had gone back to the Hub in an attempt to corner Ianto and talk to him about his behaviour. However once he’d seen the letters, and managed to skim read his, the doctor had rushed to find Ianto before it was too late, calling Jack, Tosh and Gwen on the way to get them to go back to the Hub. Having made it to Ianto’s flat, he’d rushed to get to Ianto, Owen kicking his door in just to find him dying, clinging to the basket filled with bloody flowers. After that it had been a mad dash to get back to the Hub so that the medic could treat him.

Owen finishing his recount of the night’s events brings on a wave of emotions Ianto couldn’t comprehend, and it’s only when Tosh wipes away a stray tear that Ianto even realises he’s crying. Turning his head, he smiles down at her, and much to the annoyance of Owen, removes his oxygen mask so that he can place a kiss to her forehead, before pulling Owen and his interlocked hands to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“So, seeing as I’m not actually dying, can we ignore everything I said in those letters? I feel like a right idiot having said all of those things…” Ianto pleads, watching Owen and Tosh pretend to consider his plea.

“I don’t think we can ignore _everythin’_ you said, do you Tosh?” Owen asks, chuckling as she nods her agreement.

“I mean, I know I wouldn’t want to ignore the declarations of love for the both of us.”

Eyes widening comically large, Ianto is stopped in his attempts to clarify what they mean by a harsh cough, causing him to motion for the bin beside his bed as he coughs up multiple daffodils followed by a singular daisy, Tosh and Owen rubbing his back in an attempt to soften the force of the coughing. Feeling himself growing more exhausted, Ianto allows himself to fall asleep, holding Tosh closer and soaking up the affection and adoration from his two favourite people in the world, eager to see what their futures hold.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Let me know what you thought & come find me on [ Tumblr](https://acetoshikosato.tumblr.com/)! Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Jae <3


End file.
